


Veal

by sunamaryllis



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animal Hybrids, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Animal Ears, Bondage, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Kidnapping, Lactation, M/M, Male Lactation, Milking, Milking Machines, Nipple Play, handjobs, like... actual cows..., not beta read we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunamaryllis/pseuds/sunamaryllis
Summary: Damian, prized cow of the Wayne family ranch, has fallen into the hands of a strange, one-eyed man.It quickly becomes clear that his intentions are less than pure.Kinktober Days 5+6:Nipple Play|Lactation+Kidnapping|Trapped
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Slade Wilson
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952560
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	Veal

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck if I thought the last entry was embarrassing to write, that was nothing compared to this one. Lactation isn't 100% my thing, so it was fun to kind of branch out, but undeniably difficult. 
> 
> This has... furry-adjacent content, I would say. Damian is a lot like a satyr, except instead of a goat or deer, his bottom half is that of a cow. I'm picturing his cow-half to be pure black and a little on the long-haired side, but feel free to picture him how you like. 
> 
> Please mind the tags!

“You know you’re never going to get away with this, right?”

The man completely ignored Damian, continuing to repair the odd-looking machine in front of him. Warm evening light shone through the slats in the barn wall, falling in parallel beams over the shoulders of the man. Even through his flannel, Damian could see the ripple of strong muscle as he worked – an indicator of a lifetime of training, and no doubt the reason that he was able to so efficiently nab Damian from the family farm.

After a few more moments of silence, Damian scowled, his tail swishing petulantly. He was not used to being brushed off.

“My father is a very powerful man,” he continued, “He will _destroy_ you for this. So, I suggest you forget about whatever delusions you had of getting rich off of ransom money. If you let me go now, you might even live to go to prison.”

The man chuckled – a low, dangerous sound that made the hairs stand up on the back of Damian’s neck. He finally turned to face Damian, staring him down with a single, cold blue eye.

“You and I both know your daddy doesn’t kill,” he rumbled, “And if you think I’m doing this for the money, you’re even more of a fool than you seem.”

Damian bared his teeth in his best approximation of a growl, arms straining with effort as he once more attempted to wiggle out of the metal cattle rack he had been secured in. He was a little too small for the tightest settings on the cuffs that wrapped around his wrists and ankles – if he could just manage to get the angle right, he could probably squirm out…

The man suddenly reached forward, forcibly grabbing a fistful of Damian’s hair. He turned Damian’s head to the side, his one eye appraising him slowly. “You’re supposed to control restless cows by the horn,” he mused, “but I just can’t seem to get a grip on yours.”

Damian flushed angrily – while he certainly wasn’t _insecure_ or some nonsense about his small horn size, the comment still got under his skin. “Well, perhaps if you had selected a larger cow for your ridiculous kidnapping plot, this wouldn’t be an issue.” He snapped as best he could.

The man simply raised an eyebrow. “I told you, kid, this isn’t about the money. It’s personal.” He released Damian’s hair, leaning back on the rough wooden stool he was seated on. “And what’s more personal than the boss’ kid?”

At that, Damian actually sneered. “Your logic betrays your ignorance. If you think that I’m father’s favorite just because we’re blood, then you are sorely mistaken.”

The man was quiet at that, but Damian noted with some alarm that a slow smile was spreading across his face. Eventually, he turned back to his machine, putting the final components into place. “Do you know who I am, boy?”

Damian scoffed. “A pathetic man who is going to get what’s coming to him?”

He turned around – in each hand, he held a narrow metal cylinder, connected to the machine behind him with a plastic tube. Damian blanched as he realized what he was looking at – a milking machine. His struggles against his restraints doubled – he was far too young to undergo such a procedure.

“My name is Slade Wilson.” the man – Slade – said. “I want you to remember that, so when I dump you on your daddy’s farm, you can tell him who sent you.”

With that, he turned the machine on. Damian could hear the rhythmic whirring of the gears, and more concerning, he could hear the whistle of air as the suction began.

“No,” he gasped as Slade reached forward, scathing comebacks dying on his tongue as panic settled into his chest. “No, don’t!”

Slade chuckled darkly. “Kid, you’re just lucky I’m using you for milk and not veal.”

Before Damian could respond, Slade placed the cylinders onto his chest.

Damian screamed as they latched on, fully enveloping his small brown nipples. The sensation was _unbearable –_ the suction made his skin prickle almost painfully, and he could feel his nipples being harshly tugged by the compressed air. He thrashed in his restraints; he was no longer trying to escape, but was simply overwhelmed.

Tears ran down his ruddy face, and he bit hard enough on his lip that he tasted blood. How could the others _stand_ this? Richard had always assured him that when he grew up enough, he would actually appreciate milking, that it could be very satisfying and even feel good. But this felt akin to torture.

Slade looked unaffected by Damian’s obvious pain. He simply leaned back, eye raking over Damian’s form appraisingly. Damian glared through his tears, helplessness boiling into a hot anger.

“H-happy?” He hiccupped, not quite managing to tamp down on his sobs. “If you knew a-anything about cowboys, you’d know that I’m too young to make any milk.”

Slade grunted, sounding almost amused. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a spoiled brat who needs to be reminded what he’s good for.”

Damian whimpered, ducking his head. The next few minutes were a haze, the throbbing agony of his chest coming in waves. Sometimes, the pain would recede, with only a dull pressure on his nipples; it always returned, however, with a terrible stabbing sensation that made his skin prickle.

The entire time, however, Damian could feel a strange warmth pooling in his chest, just below the surface. He squirmed at the sensation – it wasn’t painful, not like the suctioning, but it was definitely unlike anything Damian had ever experienced before.

Damian yelped as the pain in his right nipple suddenly grew agonizingly sharp. Fresh tears rolled down his face – oh god, had something torn? Seconds later, however, the pain seemed to reach a peak before bursting – it slowly began to ebb away, replaced by an almost pleasant pressure.

Glancing up, Damian could see that Slade had raised an eyebrow at him, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

No way.

Damian gaped stupidly, glancing down at his chest. Sure enough, the clear plastic tube ran white with milk.

His head fell again as his left nipple began to sting in the same way – Damian thrashed as he went through the same tension, the same blessed release, the same shock as the left tube was filled with milk as well.

Damian sniffled, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. It hurt a lot less now, most of the suction being directed into drawing the milk out of him, but it was incredibly humiliating. Before, he was just being hurt, but now, it was as if his own body were betraying him.

Worse was that with each passing second, the pressure shifted from tolerable to… pleasurable. Damian squirmed, flushing as the sucking sensation made his chest feel warm. He couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t supposed to be like this – he was supposed to be with his family, with Richard, who would help him through it. Instead, he was stuck with a kidnapper in a dingy barn, who knows how many miles from home.

With horror, Damian realized that the heat in his chest was spreading through his whole body, but most concerningly, was beginning to pool between his legs. He tried to press his thighs together, but his unguligrade hind legs only managed to buckle inward a bit, barely allowing for any motion.

Slade seemed to notice this movement, his grin growing even wider. He scooted his stool forward, reaching his hand forward to rest on the inside of Damian’s leg. He began to run his hand slowly up, Damian gritting his teeth in annoyance at the sensation of Slade petting his fur in the wrong direction.

“Not so terrible, hm?” Slade drawled, clearly not looking for an actual answer. His hand had reached the crook between Damian’s leg and torso, and he rubbed at it playfully, trying to tease a reaction out of him.

Damian screwed his eyes shut, willing himself not to get hard at Slade’s ministrations. He tried to picture himself anywhere else, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how good his chest felt, how much he wanted to touch himself to the feeling.

As if reading his mind, Damian felt Slade grasp his sheath. He gasped, unable to help the way his hips twitched into the contact. Embarrassingly, he could feel that the inside of his sheath was incredibly wet with pre, and Slade’s slow strokes made soft _shlick_ noises with every movement.

“There we go,” Slade said approvingly, and Damian cracked an eye open. He realized that the tip of his cock was peeking out of his sheath. Damian tried to jerk his hips back, but Slade grabbed him and held him in place.

With the other hand, Slade reached down and teased the tip of his cock with his fingers, encouraging it to slide out fully. Damian whimpered – no one else had ever touched him there, and he had only experimented with himself a few times.

Slade wrapped his hand around Damian’s cock, entirely enveloping it in his large hand. Slade’s hand was rough, his calluses scraping against the sensitive skin of Damian’s cock. Rather than being painful, however, the texture felt incredible against his hyper-sensitive skin. Damian’s eyes fluttered, hips rabbiting forward as he chased the pleasure.

“Figured you’d like that,” Slade murmured, amusement clear in his tone. Damian meant to growl out a warning, but Slade rubbed a thumb over Damian’s slit, so it came out more of a pleading whimper. Pre dripped from his slit, enough that it dripped onto the floor, staining the wooden floor of the barn.

The imminence of Damian’s suddenly struck him. His cheeks flushed with shame – even though he didn’t want this, even though he had barely been touched, he was still incredibly close. His chest and cock throbbed, waves of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

He tried to pull away once more, but Slade kept him firmly pinned, staring him down with his one, cold eye.

“Come.” Slade commanded, and Damian had no choice to obey.

He arched his back lewdly as he spurted into Slade’s rough hand. Slade milked Damian through it, continuing his motions until Damian was shivering with overstimulation. Damian whined softly, and Slade finally drew back, wiping the mess onto his jeans.

He leaned back, finally shutting the milking machine off. Damian couldn’t help it – he practically slumped with relief as the cylinders clattered to the floor, no longer connected to his chest with suction. 

“Satisfied?” he panted, glaring up at Slade.

He cocked his head, grin still firmly on his lips. He sat back, spreading his legs slowly. Damian’s blood ran cold as he saw the prominent bulge in Slade’s jeans, which he had started to unzip.

“Little cow,” Slade chuckled, “we’re just getting started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Only a day late! If I can finish the next one tomorrow, I'll be back on track. If you like Damian content, stay tuned ;)


End file.
